Valentine's Day
by omi1
Summary: It's Valentine's Day for Atobe and Tezuka...
1. Default Chapter

Valentine's Day

Part I  
  


Atobe got onto the train, his unaccustomed weight of his bag swinging at his side. He really wished Kabaji was with him right now. For one thing, Kabaji was one of the best people to talk to at times like this. For another thing, Atobe wouldn't have to carry his own bag.   
  


But.   
  


This really wasn't the kind of event in which you want a third person present.   
  


The reason for this little excursion – a slim white, be-ribboned package -- sat in his bag and seemed to weigh heavier every moment. _Do I really want to do this?_ Atobe asked himself, sighing as he fingered the slight burns on the tips of his fingers. _He'd never know. I could just get off the train right now and throw it away._  
  


He couldn't believe he'd actually gone and made chocolate, for crying out loud. It was the first time Ore-sama had ever stepped into the kitchen.   
  


Of course, it had seemed really easy at the time – after all, how hard could it be to follow a few simple instructions? But the book said nothing about needing three pairs of arms to crush chocolate to bits, to toast almonds, to heat the milk, all at the same time. And he _still_ had no idea what a bain-marie was.   
  


Bain meant bath, he knew that much from his French classes. But the only Marie he was familiar with was the air-headed, incompetent French monarch who'd managed to lose her kingdom and her head during the French Revolution. Anyway, what has anyone's bath got to do with cooking? He went ahead to make the chocolate without it. On hindsight, it may have been a mistake.   
  


Not for the first time, Atobe pondered the wisdom of taking love advice from his tennis team. They were just talking in the tennis club room after practice, as they usually did. But on that day, their topic of discussion had turned to love. Or more accurately, confessions of love. On Valentine's Day.   
  


Oshitari swore that it was the best day to tell that special someone that you loved them. He'd said that the chances of success were higher on that one day of the year, according to all those romantic movies he watched.   
  


Atobe wondered if Tezuka liked watching movies.   
  


Ohtori said it was because it was springtime, and everyone was in a better mood, that's why it was sure to work.   
Atobe brushed the stray raindrops off his coat.   
  


And everyone agreed that home-made chocolate was the way to go, even Jirou, who woke up for approximately two minutes to say that he liked chocolate before falling asleep again.   
  


But Atobe was pretty certain that chocolate shouldn't have that slightly burnt smell. And the chocolate he made sure as heck didn't look the way he had planned… He had been startled by thunder, just as he was about to pour the liquid chocolate into the mold. He could make another one, but then again, he had already burned three previous batches and used up nearly all the available pots and pans in the kitchen and there just wasn't enough time to make it from scratch again.   
  


At least the box and wrapping were pretty.   
  


Atobe shifted in his seat to stare at the pouring rain outside the carriage. He resisted the urge to gnaw on his nails. What if he didn't like it? What if Tezuka didn't feel the same way? _Maybe this is a stupid idea in the first place._ But something glued Atobe in place, despite the jangled nerves and the out-of-control feeling. He wanted – no, _needed_ – something more from Tezuka.   
  


Of course he could just quietly stay by his side. _And pigs could fly._ It just wasn't enough. Not for him. He needed to know that Tezuka was equally affected by him.   
  


In a rare moment of self-examination, Atobe admitted to himself that the same destructive impulse that made him walk onto the courts to destroy the career of a player whose only fault was to outshine him, was driving him now.   
  


Defeat wasn't enough for him. The old Atobe had to destroy any challengers who came so close to threatening his position, his security. Now, in much the same way, a one-sided love isn't enough. The new Atobe couldn't be content with just the knowledge that he had feelings for the brown-haired buchou from Seigaku. No. He needed Tezuka to reciprocate his feelings. He wanted Tezuka's heart, his world, to revolve around _him_, Atobe Keigo.   
  


Atobe let his head drop back against the window. The rain poured down in shining silvery streaks across the glass. The last time he had given in to the impulse, he had barely made it. It was so nearly, almost, a disaster. This time, when the stakes are so much higher…   
  


His heart beat was accelerating. Pounding _what-if he doesn't like you? What-if he says nothing when you give it to him? What-if he thinks you are a freak? What-if he says he never wants to see you again? What-if? What-if? What-if?_   
  


Atobe suddenly felt piqued. He had never been nervous before he met Tezuka. Ever. Perfection didn't need nerves. But here Ore-sama was, on a train, dithering over what should have been a simple and straightforward dialogue. Ore-sama loved him, and he'd better love Ore-sama back if he knew what was good for him!  
  


It was all his fault.  
  


Tezuka Kunimitsu.   
  


With a single set match, he had blown Atobe's world to pieces. Atobe had gone in expecting to smash Tezuka's arm, to grind him to the ground. But by that last game, he had come to realise that he had known nothing about Tezuka and his passion.   
  


_Tennis isn't just about winning or losing. A person could continue to play even with the all-too-real threat of injury. The mind can overcome pain. Inner strength can push a body beyond human limits._   
  


Every one of Tezuka's return serves in that final tie-breaker had stripped Atobe of his outer protections; the impact of each shot tearing off layers Atobe had thought were the key aspects of his character. _The need to be cheered, for attention, to be worshipped. His innate belief in his superiority. His unbeatable insight. The knowledge he was the best._ All gone with every return Tezuka hit, smashed to pieces, leaving behind only the will to play every shot as best he can, to just hold on.   
  


He'd won only because he'd lasted just that much longer than Tezuka. But Atobe knew, even as the ball bounced off the net, that he hadn't really won. But at least he'd proved that he had just as much passion and heart. He'd meant what he said over the net. It really was the best match ever. Then he'd gone back to his side, to his smiling team mates and cheering worshippers, shaken and panting, hoping to cobble back together some of his confidence, some of his superiority from whatever broken shards Tezuka had left him.   
  


To some extent, it had worked. He had barely flinched when Coach Sakaki told him that he'd given the Seigaku coach some information about the world-class specialist clinic in Germany for Tezuka to consider. And he didn't try to find out when Tezuka was leaving for Germany. He couldn't help it if people liked to tell him these things.   
  


He'd even manage to go through most days without the words 'Tezuka' or 'Seigaku' crossing his mind.   
But there were nights when he would dream of the match again. Sometimes, he dreamt he played differently, that he had tried his 'Rondo to Destruction' earlier in the match, rather than later. Or that he managed to break the Tezuka Zone.   
  


Some nights, he dreamt he lost.   
  


So when he heard that Tezuka was finally coming back to Japan, Atobe made up his mind to go look for him.   
  


It was at that time when he first discovered what it meant to be nervous. He was positive that Tezuka did not hate him for what happened in the match, would not mind meeting him again. He was sure that there was no hate in the Seigaku captain's tennis. Well, pretty sure. Almost certain, anyway. But he only understood what butterflies in the stomach meant when he stood at the gates of Seigaku, stomach churning, trying to muster enough courage to go in. Kabaji had to push him though the gates.   
  


It was an awkward meeting, the first ever since their one and only match. He'd calmly asked after Tezuka's injury, made stilted small talk about Germany, and about the various therapies available there, jumped with relief into a discussion about the standard of European players compared to Japanese ones.   
  


It was only at the end, when Tezuka made these small movements that suggested that he would like this meeting was to end soon, when Atobe asked the real question that he had wanted to ask.   
  


"Do you regret it?" Atobe asked, his heart seemingly suspended over a hidden chasm as he waited for an answer.   
  


Tezuka was looking out the window at the time, the late afternoon sun slanted across his profile, casting a golden halo around his face. Then he turned and looked at him.   
  


"I regretted it the moment I stepped off the courts…"   
  


Atobe felt his throat close, and an ache began to make itself known within his chest. But Tezuka was still speaking.  
  


"…But it was only for a while. Now, I regret nothing, or rather, there is nothing to regret. We both played our best."   
  


Tezuka looked straight into Atobe's eyes and repeated with a light emphasis on the words. "_We played our best._"  
  


A silence fell upon the room. The pain went away. Only the soft breathing of two boys standing opposite each other in a small, light-filled room can be heard. For a moment, Atobe could do nothing but soak up _his_ words, _this_ moment, to store forever. "It… really was the best match I've ever played," he'd managed to say in the end.   
  


Tezuka had walked him back to the school gates, where a patient Kabaji waited. They were about to leave, when Atobe was struck by a sudden impulse. He turned, "Tezuka!" and the other boy turned back in surprise. "Would you like to come to my house someday? We could… I mean, I have original copies of all the major Open matches."  
  


Tezuka had looked faintly surprised at first, but in the end, only said, "Thank you. I would enjoy that."   
  


And that was the start of everything. He'd called to arrange the time and date and place. Tezuka came over to Atobe's house to watch the latest US Open matches on the wide-screen projector in his house. They talked a bit after watching each match, although getting Tezuka to volunteer any information was a bit like pulling teeth. But Atobe had persevered. He discovered that they had other common interests besides tennis. Like fishing. And foreign literature.   
  


They had gone fishing together, just once, and Atobe thought with a frisson of smugness that he'd managed to surprise Tezuka with his dedication to this other sport. He much preferred fly-fishing, of course, but Atobe had to admit that there was something soothing about dropping a line into the water and just sitting silently with Tezuka at his side.   
  


Tezuka introduced him to his favourite English author, and Atobe got Tezuka addicted to Greek mythology in return.   
  


And slowly, gradually, Atobe found himself changing. The more Atobe saw of the Seigaku captain, the more he wanted him.   
  


At first, he watched Tezuka, only because, Atobe told himself, he was worried about the state of Tezuka's injured shoulder. But slowly, he found himself staring at the other boy for other reasons. Like the stern perfection of his face. Or that interesting curve of his neck where it met his shoulder. And the strong, elegant lines of his hands. Atobe found himself wanting to take those glasses off and just drown in those gorgeous cool eyes.   
  


He found himself making excuses, anything at all, to stand a little closer to him, or perhaps casually sling an arm around his broad shoulders in greeting. He pretended not to fully understand some of the more colloquial terms that Tezuka's favourite author used in his book, just so he could lean in close over Tezuka's shoulder and smell the clean soft scent of his hair.   
  


It was sneaky as hell, but he didn't think Tezuka had noticed. At least, he didn't _react_ to anything Atobe did.   
  


And then came the day when Tezuka had smiled at him. They were discussing their respective teams, Hyoutei and Seigaku. Atobe had, very grudgingly, recognised that, yes, maybe Seigaku was a pretty strong team after all. And then it happened. Tezuka lowered his head slightly, eyes crinkled just that little bit at the corners of his eyes, and his lips tilted upwards.   
  


It was just for a moment, the smile vanished as quickly as it appeared. But Atobe never forgot it. The image stayed with him, engraved in his mind, all that night. And that was when Atobe finally realised the truth. He was in love. With Tezuka.   
  


The knowledge lodged itself in his chest like a huge boulder. It hurt, loving Tezuka.   
  


_He was calm, and quiet, and honest, and responsible._   
  


He was also irritatingly stubborn, shockingly anti-social, and had no fashion sense whatsoever.   
  


Atobe had tried using his insight on him. He thought their future actually looked quite hopeful. After all, they have had quite a number of conversations, both on tennis and non-tennis matters. And Tezuka seemed to enjoy himself when they were out fishing. Not that he showed it, or said anything, of course. It was just that… Well, they were still going on, making occasional plans to go out again, weren't they?   
  


But his insight had been proven wrong before. He had failed to read Tezuka accurately before. What if he was wrong again, just like the last time?  
  


Perhaps he was reading too much into the fact that they had spent time together. Perhaps it meant nothing to Tezuka.   
  


The train bell rang. His stop was coming up. Atobe silently pulled together all the remnants of his pride, his confidence, and disembarked.   
  


He'd gone to the Seigaku tennis courts first, but only a couple of regulars were there. No Tezuka. The tall, lanky regular – Inui, wasn't it? – walked up to him. "Looking for someone?" He asked courteously.   
  


"Ah — I'm looking for Tezuka-kun."   
  


"I see," the boy adjusted his glasses, his other hand twitching just a little bit. "I think I last saw him in our locker room." He pointed in the direction of a small low-lying building.   
  


"Thanks." Atobe stalked off in the direction of the building.   
  


He opened the door, took one step, and promptly stumbled over a large package, sending it's contents flying all over the floor. Atobe cursed, a quiet vicious streak of blue scorching the air around him.   
  


"—AAHH! Hyoutei's buchou!" Two small freshmen cowered together in front of him, scrambling to pick everything up.   
  


Atobe looked down at the stupid, obstructing thing that nearly tripped His Magnificence up – It was a bag, make that several bagfuls, of candy. Heaps of it, pink and white and blue wrapping, small plush toys, cards, boxes of chocolate… Pretty, pretty, chocolate.   
  


"What's this?" Atobe asked, his eyebrow arching up in query as he nudged one particularly striking red package with his foot.  
  


"Ah, it's, it's buchou's and the regular-tachi's Valentine's Day presents," stammered the boy with the bowl-shaped haircut.   
  


The other boy elaborated, "The regular-tachi's lockers were too small to hold all the presents, so we helped them carry it over here… those are Tezuka buchou's presents, and these are Fuji-senpais, and Ryouma-kuns are those over there." He gestured pointing to the three biggest piles.   
  


Atobe nodded, still staring at the presents scattered at his feet. "And where is your buchou now, by the way?"  
"Ah, he's in our club room, preparing the ranking blocks for this month. It's in the main building, room 218."   
  


"Thanks." Giving the present one last nudge with his foot, Atobe walked away.   
  


He felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. _Of course he would have received presents as well. But... This many? This almost rivals my own stack this year..._   
  


Atobe found a nearby bench and sat on it. He took out his own gift from his bag. His present suddenly seemed... less... Just _less_. He turned the gift around in his hands, his mind racing. He would bet that those just-as-pretty gifts tasted wonderful.   
  


His mind threw up an image. A pretty girl, perhaps with long hair... Yes, Tezuka probably preferred girls with long hair... Huge shy eyes, rosebud pink mouth, looking up at Tezuka from below long thick eyelashes... Shyly offering her present to Tezuka... Tezuka accepting it... Tezuka smiling...   
  


_What was I thinking?_ He thought with a pang.


	2. Part II

Valentine's Day

Part II  
  


Tezuka set off for the tennis courts, keeping a somewhat wary lookout for girls in general. He wished, very briefly, that the school would ban Valentine's Day completely for being completely disruptive to the education process, but recognised it as a lost cause. For one thing, the principal and not a few teachers of Seishun Gakuen actually _enjoyed_ receiving chocolates from their female students. Tezuka twitched slightly.   
  


It happened every year. There would be the many 'anonymous' packages littering his locker, and his desk. There would be the blushing girls who would come up to him and hand him some frilly package, all the while staring at the floor, so that the only thing he could see of them was the top of their heads. Or those who would thrust gifts into his hands and run away before he has had a chance to react. There were those who would turn into a shrieking bundle of over-excited nerves when he thanked them for the present. And every year, there was at least one or two who would cry.   
  


And he didn't even _like_ chocolate.   
  


This year, he had taken to hiding in the securely locked tennis club room in self defense. He'd still gotten caught by some of the female students, but thankfully, it was nothing like last year, when he was mobbed enroute to tennis practice. Even his best 'buchou' command voice hadn't worked then – the girls had only squealed louder. In the end, he had to suffer being rescued by Ryuzaki sensei, and Inui.   
  


Tezuka was determined that that would not happen again this year. This year, he had chosen to wait an hour after classes had ended before emerging from his safe-house. By this time, the majority of the students should have either gone back home, or are busy with their own extra-curricular activities. Or so Tezuka hoped.   
  


It worked to a certain extent. There were only two determined girls still waiting outside with presents – chocolates again. Always chocolates. Tezuka accepted the gifts and thanked them with only slightly gritted teeth, and escaped as quickly as he could.   
  


Still holding the two pink packages, Tezuka hurried towards the tennis courts. It was beneath his dignity to peer around corners to watch for his fellow students, but Tezuka did take a deeper than usual breath being turning into the second to last corner to his destination.   
  


The coast was clear.   
  


Tezuka felt that tiny curled knot of tension between his shoulders ease, and he continued walking.   
About halfway there, he suddenly spotted a very familiar figure seated on the isolated bench behind their locker room.  
  


"Atobe?"   
  


The figure looked up. Dark blue eyes met brown eyes. "Tezu…ka?"  
  


Tezuka felt as if he was suddenly thrown back to the day of their first meeting after he returned from Germany. Atobe had looked exactly like that. Vulnerable. Open.   
  


Tezuka took two instinctive steps closer to the Hyoutei boy and stopped.   
  


Atobe's eyes had dropped to the pink packages that he was holding, and suddenly a mask fell over the other boy's features. A mask of brittle pride and a hint of bitterness that Tezuka could not understand. Atobe raised his chin in an unmistakable show of bravado, and threw something at him.   
  


Tezuka caught it automatically with his right hand, well trained tennis reflexes coming to the fore. He looked down at what he'd caught – a white package tied with pale gold ribbons – and looked back at Atobe with a slightly raised eye brow.   
  


"For you, obviously," explained Atobe in a light voice that had a edge to it which Tezuka disliked. "I had too much time of my hands today, and I thought it would be amusing to give you something. You can dump it together with the rest of the presents you've already received. I don't care," he ended with a light mocking tone.   
  


Tezuka looked at the package again with a slight frown, turning it over in his hands. _Atobe was giving him a Valentine's Day present? But…_ A barely noticable flush rose from his neck. He looked up to say something to Atobe, but the boy was already slinging his bag over his shoulder and turning away from him.   
  


"Atobe, wait!" Tezuka called out. Atobe turned slowly and looked at him.   
  


The mask that Tezuka disliked was still there. He found himself wanting to step up to the other boy and do something to wipe that expression off his face.   
  


He had told Ryuzaki sensei once before, that most top-ranking players had that certain quality that attracted others to them. A certain charisma. He was talking about Echizen then, but the same statement could be applied to Atobe Keigo in spades.   
  


They have met before, him and Atobe, at earlier matches and tournaments. They may not have played each other until the Regionals tournament this year, but Tezuka had always been acutely aware of the comet-like ascent of one Atobe Keigo. He had always known that they would have to advance beyond this person in order to assure Seigaku's entry to the Nationals.   
  


He hadn't been prepared to be amused by him though… Or attracted.   
  


He waited by the net, watching Atobe come onto the courts, orchestrating his fan's responses. Watched him gesture with his racket, the brightest figure in the court, drawing out accolades from the 200-strong Hyoutei crowd, and reflecting the glory back a hundred-fold to them.   
  


He would, Tezuka knew, soak up all the cheers and screaming, and in return, provide an almost terrifyingly competent, well thought out, strategic game of tennis. Tezuka had to admit to a sense of private amusement at the consumate showmanship exhibited by Atobe, even as his heartbeat accelerated in anticipation of a true test, a match of strength to like strength.   
  


He lost. Went away to heal his arm, then came back to play again. Seigaku went on to the Nationals. Life went on. Until one day, Tezuka walked into the tennis club room to find a slightly different Atobe waiting for him.   
He had that same bright confidence, the same arrogant tilt to the head, the same proud manner of speech. But his eyes were open, honest in a way that Tezuka had never seen before.   
  


He thought it was because he wanted to continue to see those eyes that he had agreed to meet with him again. And again. He had continued to be amused by the sheer amount of confidence generated by the dark haired boy, the occasional grandstanding, how he instinctively knew to put himself in the perfect position that best showcase his physical perfection and attract attention whether he was in a crowd of hundreds or alone with Tezuka.   
  


He liked watching Atobe walk around, lighting up people, places where ever he went, drawing out responses from the people around him. He liked listening to him talk, because his remarks on the people and events around them were always pithy, to the point and occasionally able to draw blood.  
  


He found his attraction for him deepening the day he discovered that the boy didn't need crowds or sycophants around him, that he could quite happily spend a quiet day without them.   
  


He wanted that Atobe back. Not this stranger, standing before him, staring at him with carefully blank eyes and a mask of remote pride. He wanted that new/old Atobe back very much.   
  


Tezuka realised that they had been standing like that for a few minutes now.   
  


He dropped the other gifts he was holding, and began to methodically remove the wrapping on Atobe's gift. The pale ribbon went into his pocket, the paper was folded into neat squares and tucked away as well. Tezuka opened the box and pushed the soft tissue and found… chocolate.   
  


"Nn… Did you make this yourself?" He asked, looking back up at Atobe calmly.   
  


Atobe's gaze shifted away from him. A minuscular shrug, and Atobe said somewhat loftily, "I was bored. I thought it would be fun."  
  


"Nn."  
  


Tezuka looked down at the chocolate again. He could predict impending culinary disaster when he see it. He was the captain of the Seigaku tennis club, after all.   
  


_But *Atobe* made this._  
  


Tezuka broke off a good-sized piece and put it into his mouth expressionlessly, all the while looking at Atobe. He chewed slowly. Swallowed. Ran his tongue against the back of his teeth. Swallowed again. Atobe was watching him with eagle sharp eyes, fingers drumming lightly on the strap of his bag. Tezuka made sure that his expression did not change one whit throughout the entire process of ingestion.   
  


He swallowed one final time, trying to get the last of the flavours out of his mouth. Atobe was still looking at him. Tezuka's expression was still unchanged.   
  


A glimmer of hurt flashed across Atobe's face. He was the first to look away. He shifted on his feet, about to turn and just leave, but all of a sudden _Tezuka_ was there, taking the two steps necessary to close the distance between them, _Tezuka's arms_ were coming around him, one hand gently pushing his face up to meet his eyes, and then Atobe knew nothing but Tezuka's lips, gently pressed on his own.   
  


They stayed that way for a moment. Lips pressed lightly together, a hand cupping Atobe's face, the other hand draped around his shoulder.   
  


Tezuka broke off the kiss, shifting just a half pace back. There was a strange look on Atobe's face, half stunned and more than slightly dreamy. Tezuka smiled and gently brushed Atobe's soft lips with his thumb, then let go, dropping his hands back to his sides.   
  


Atobe blinked and refocused on Tezuka's face. Awareness crept back, and a slow unformed happiness.   
They stood like that for a while, bodies close but not touching. After a minute had passed, Atobe realised that Tezuka was not going to move. He blinked and smiled. Swayed closer to Tezuka, their lips just two breaths apart. "It tasted terrible, didn't it?" He said, with a hint of laughter in his voice.  
  


Tezuka did not react. "Nn," He thought for a moment. "Mildly horrible."  
  


Atobe pouted lightly, moving even closer towards him. "I spent hours making that thing. You'd think I'd get a little more appreciation for it."   
  


"Ah." Tezuka looked down into Atobe's bright eyes. He took the hint. And showed Atobe exactly how much he appreciated his gift.   
  
- fin -  
  
Author's Notes: Just realised from the various LJs I've been stalking that the anime has Hyoutei playing practice matches with the Regulars -- apparently because Tezuka asked Atobe for this favour. So, this fic takes place in the manga-verse, where Oishi asked Fudoumine for practice matches instead. But there *are* definite references to stuff that only happened in the manga… And Tezuka *did* go to Germany to fix his shoulder as per the anime… Err, the timing doesn't work out either, it's impossible for them to remain 3-years unless all the matches and Tezuka's return happened before Feb… Or unless they're all high-school freshmen now… But I need my Horio-tachi… *sweatdrops* Call it a confused AU then. Where the matches, Tezuka's injury and subsequent recovery all took place, and they are all into a new year but are still 3-years and buchous of their respective teams. Thank you. Now, please hit the comment button and review.


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